Brutality
by Loves-Chihuahuas
Summary: Words dropped like broken whiskey bottles and cigarette burns onto his unprepared son, spitting out his lines perfectly. Drawing the scene to a close, he pushed his parental title away and shoved the cold barrel of the gun against his firstborn's forehead


**Disclaimer:** I do own Death Note nor its characters; Ohba and Obata do. Nor do I own any grape bubblegum… *cries and chomps on strawberry instead*

**Important info/warnings:** This takes place during and after Light's mock execution, and will be Soichiro-centric. This will probably be quite drabble-y. No slash, of course *snorts.* There will be one curse word, I believe.

Oh, and:

"_thoughts"_

"Speaking"

_**Brutality**_

The haggard man pulled the car off the road, doing his utmost not to wince at the startled cries emanating from the back seat as he took the car off-road. He drove the straining vehicle under a viaduct, cutting off the engine along with his emotions. He followed the script L had given him without deviation, performing it perfectly like a recipe: 1. Drive terrified teens into middle of nowhere, 2. Tell lie about concocted convictions and executions, 3. Pull out gun and turn…

"_He looks so young."_

It was a simple, rapid thought, gone in a firing of synapses, but it was a painful, clear one; upon turning, his face set in morbid fury and his pistol clenched in his hand, Soichiro nearly dropped his façade at the sight of his son's face. He was so pure in expression, almost painfully unsullied by the world, like a sweet child. His child. He pushed the thought roughly away.

As good an actor as his son, the man kept his expression and tone in-character for his performance. Light, still much more a boy than man, looked at his father with confusion, and – for the first time—fear. The caramel-haired teen attempted to reason with his seemingly insane father while Misa made her own ruckus in the back, the din making the car feel crowded. Both were cut off quickly as, lifting the tool he had yet to take a life with, Soichiro barked the two words he had never spoken to his children before: "Shut up!"

Like a smack to the face, Light visibly jerked his head backwards, the hand-print not visible on his visage but undoubtedly scorched onto his childish heart. Hardening his eyes against all the guilt he felt and pain the boy in front of his would soon feel, Mr. Yagami began the final act of his performance. Words dropped like broken whiskey bottles and cigarette burns onto his unprepared son, spitting out his lines perfectly. Drawing the scene to a close, the father pushed his parental title away and shoved the cold barrel of the gun against his firstborn's forehead. The boys gasped away from the gun like he could melt through the back of the carseat, his primal fear tangible in the stale air. Those doe eyes, rarely expressive the past year, spoke volumes to the other man, primarily along the lines of 'fear,' and 'betrayal.'

"Light, from one murdered to another, I'll see you in hell," Soichiro ground out hoarsely, bringing his finger to the trigger, internally begging for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

"Dad, no!" yelled in a frenzied panic from the nearly hyperventilating teen as the blonde girl screamed, then—

_BANG._

The wide-eyed boy had his head pushed far in the leather of his seat, starring in a mixture of terror and shock at the empty pistol as if half-expecting the missing bullet to jump out of the dark barrel. Soichiro, unable to bear the sight of his son's traumatization any longer, slumped into his seat, his gaze mercifully now directed at the windshield. As he next had to, he spoke in a emotionless voice to the little camera attached to the rear-view mirror so the sick screenwrite of a detective could explain to his son why he had been put through what was considered by the UN to be an illegal torture method; mock execution.

…

That car ride to the hotel L was using at the moment was even worse than the ride to the mock-execution; the first ride he was a loved and respected father, and the second ride he was just the man who had lent his DNA to the boy. Soichiro found himself almost wishing his son or Amane had been Kira, if only to put him out of his misery. Though his son responded with sincerity and a calm enthusiasm to Ryuzaki, most likely still in a state of shock, Light quickly became subdued. Stealing glances at his pride and joy through the rear-view mirror periodically as he drove, Soichiro watched as his son became like one of the dead, an animated corpse of a beautiful boy. He wouldn't even raise his head from his chest, sitting in the backseat silently as the man who was once his father drove.

Mr. Yagami pulled into the parking garage of the hotel, and went around the car to help his handcuffed son, weakened from his confinement, out of the car. Without giving what he was doing much thought, Soichiro succinctly yanked the car door open and reached in to grasp Light's upper arm. Light's gaze locked onto his father's, and the look on that face was one he saw often in his line of work and never wished to see on his child's face; the face of a victim—raped, beaten, neglected. His son looked at him with the eyes of an abused child, moving jerkily away from his father and wincing horribly. His whole being screamed '_please Daddy, no!' _It was worse than losing a limb, having to witness those few seconds. Gripping the doorframe hard enough to turn his wrinkled knuckles white, the older Yagami found himself unable to attempt another grab for his son—he knew he wouldn't be able to bear however the traumatized boy would react. Stumbling away from the car without a word, he went around the other side to help the girl out, passing off his son to arriving figures of Aizawa and Matsuda, feeling as if he were signing over custody like other failing parents; drunks, addicts, perverts, sick fucks, he now felt as though he had joined their ranks, branded as a child abuser. True, his son was technically an adult, but he was still his child—and he had just done something to his child that would definitely classify as abuse.

Helping the blonde girl out of the vehicle, Soichiro glanced over once more at Light, unable to banished his fractured son from his mind. The boy was already a good ten paces away from the car, Aizawa helping him to walk to the exit of the parking garage. Watching them walk away, he noticed how much larger Aizawa was than his son, and that thought, for reasons unknown to him, was his undoing. He motioned drunkenly for Matsuda to accompany Misa into the building, the simple officer giving him a confused, worried look as he lead the girl away. The four quickly left the dark parking garage, leaving Soichiro alone in expanse of grey concrete. He shakily collapsed back into the driver's seat, put his head in his hands, and sobbed, mourning the death of his son's innocence.

END

A/N: Well, there you have it. It's poorly done, I am well aware, so you don't need to tell me. Also, I know that the anime and manga scenes for the mock-execution differ, but I couldn't quite remember the exact sequence that went on, so sorry if I butchered it. Reviews are very much appreciated. *goes off in search of grape bubblegum*


End file.
